


Answer

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Soul Eater, Soul Eater Not!
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1615688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There’s something so irritatingly passive-aggressive about that particular vocal range that Kim is spinning back on her heel, storming in close so the extra inch of height Jacqueline has on her is perfectly evident, and hissing up into the other girl’s face." Kim and Jackie answer some very important questions shortly after becoming partners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Answer

Kim considers herself a clever girl. Sure, there are better students than her, meisters better at combat or more focused on studying or just full of sheer charisma, but wasting effort on useless things counts as idiocy in her book, and she has absolutely no interest in such hollow achievements. If she did she could succeed at them, certainly; as it is, she is interested in having the run of the girl’s dormitory to herself, as much as possible, and in frightening off anyone who tries to be friendly with Poor Misunderstood Kim. It’s been working well, too, or was until  _Jacqueline Dupré_  -- the name takes on a snarky tone even inside Kim’s own head -- decided for some utterly unfathomable reason that she wanted Kim at her meister.

There are better meisters. That’s been part of Kim’s plan, too, or at least a convenient side-effect of her isolation. The entire EAT class has more sparkle to their skills than her own ever show, and there are a handful of better students in the NOT class too. And it’s not like Jacqueline  _likes_  her; the girl can barely be around her for five minutes before she starts huffing about rules and getting herself so worked up Kim could knock her over with a feather. So the other girl’s utter  _obsession_  with Kim herself is illogical, and ridiculous, and kind of weirdly charming when Kim can let her own mental wall down enough to admit it to herself, because clearly there’s something Kim’s got that no one else can quite satisfy.

She’s thinking this through on her way up the stairs to the dormitory; class is in session right now, so the hallway is her own and she doesn’t need to worry about getting caught with the weakness of introspection on her face. By the time she kicks open the door to her own room, she’s barely looking at her surroundings, lost somewhere in confused pleasure and biting her thumbnail without realizing it.

If it were anyone else in her room, she’d be able to drop her mask back on, hiss some appropriately furious retort and clear them out immediately. But she’s thinking about Jacqueline, and when she looks up to find the weapon perched on the end of  _Kim’s_  bed, a flush high in her cheeks and her lips parted and breathing like she’s run a mile, the connection between her thoughts and reality slips her up so for a moment everything drops out of her head entirely and she just stands in the doorway, thumb still against her teeth while she stares at the other girl.

Jacqueline leaps to her feet while Kim is still waiting for reality to make sense again, starting to bow before she catches herself, starts to straighten, changes her mind, clearly caught between Kim’s lower status as a NOT student and her brand-new position as the weapon’s meister.

“Kim,” she finally manages, cheeks going crimson with self-consciousness as she finally decides on standing straight. “I was hoping to find you here.”

“It’s my own room,” Kim says without moving from the doorway. “Great skills of deduction you’ve got there.”

Jacqueline’s dark flush spreads out to the rest of her face. She’s less gorgeous when she’s this flustered, but the reaction makes her look a little more human and a little less like a doll, and in the end Kim  _does_  kind of like her, so she grins and lets it go.

“So you found me.” She steps forward out of the doorway, lets the door finally swing shut behind her. “What did you want?”

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Jacqueline asks from behind the meister’s shoulder, like it’s only just occurred to her. Kim pauses in the middle of the floor, turns to give Jacqueline a pointed look over her shoulder. The weapon flushes up again, looks away from the meister’s face. “Ah. I wanted to...spend some more time with you. To get to know you better. Now that we’re partners.” That brings a whole new wave of color, though Kim doesn’t totally understand  _why_ , and Jacqueline is talking fast over herself. “If you don’t mind. It’s supposed to help. The best teams live together, after all, spend all their time together so they can work more effectively as a unit.”

“You want to move into my room?” Kim deadpans. She means it as a joke, but Jacqueline’s blush is rapidly becoming permanent, and the weapon hesitates long enough that Kim’s eyebrows go up before she can help it. “You won’t be able to stand me, you know.” She turns back away. “Trust me, it won’t help our partnership at all.”

“I can too,” Jacqueline mutters, almost defiantly, just low enough that Kim can pretend she hasn’t heard it, if she wants.

If the weapon has spoken louder Kim would have ignored her, or laughed and changed the subject, or glared and chased her out of the room. But there’s something so irritatingly passive-aggressive about that  _particular_  vocal range that Kim is spinning back on her heel, storming in close so the extra inch of height Jacqueline has on her is perfectly evident, and  _hissing_  up into the other girl’s face.

“Yeah, you’ve taken  _pity_  on me, thanks ever so for that. You know how much of your fucking sympathy I need? You’re gonna clean me up, drag me into EAT with you, huh?” Jacqueline is leaning back a little, biting her lip, but she doesn’t look  _nearly_  as frightened as Kim wishes she did. “Make a good meister out of the little witch in hiding. Are you just some self-sacrificing martyr, that you only feel good about yourself if you’re unhappy?”

“That’s not it,” Jacqueline says, a little louder than her first statement. Kim wasn’t expecting her to rise to a fight, was honestly expecting the other girl to break down entirely under a little pressure, but then the weapon has been surprisingly persistent in the face of Kim’s continued rejection. Maybe this isn’t that out-of-character, really.

“ _Really_ ,” Kim snaps anyway. “ _What_  is it, then, that makes you so damn hung up on saving me?”

“It’s not about saving you,” Jacqueline says, and then she actually  _stomps her foot_ , like a child in a temper, and Kim lets herself laugh even if the sound is infused with scorn.

“ _What_  then?”

Jacqueline stares at Kim for a moment, so long the meister very nearly snaps a repetition of her question. Then her gaze shifts -- Kim can’t tell where, exactly, from the oddly close angle -- and the other girl’s cheeks flare red with heat.

“Kim --” she starts.

Kim doesn’t cut her off. She’s curious, really, legitimately interested in the answer now. But Jacqueline doesn’t keep talking; there’s a moment of silence, a breath while Kim is waiting for the conclusion to the other girl’s sentence. She’s anticipating an  _answer_  so thoroughly that the contact is just confusing at first; it takes her a moment to realize what’s going on, why Jacqueline has leaned in so close she can’t see the weapon, why her mouth is warm and wet and why there are fingers against the back of her neck. Then she  _does_  realize, all at once, and in the first shocked moment she tries to pull back before she’s even figured out how she wants to react to Jacqueline  _kissing_  her. But the weapon’s hand is against the back of her neck, and when she tries to jerk away Jacqueline makes a sound of protest and brings her other hand up to Kim’s shoulder, and something at the back of Kim’s mind says,  _oh, well that explains a lot_.  
Jacqueline only holds the meister still for a minute; Kim can feel the exact moment self-awareness comes back into the other girl’s body, the tension of panic stiffening the other girl’s shoulders and turning her lips from impossibly soft to thin with fright. The hand at Kim’s neck drops and Jacqueline  _leaps_  backward, flushed and wide-eyed and looking at least as shocked as Kim feels.

It’s clear from the expression on Jacqueline’s face -- as if Kim has slapped her, although the meister hasn’t moved -- that she’s not going to speak, and probably not going to come back to reality until Kim drags her there by force, so even though  _Jacqueline_  is the one who kissed  _Kim_  and  _Kim_  has the better right to be dumbstruck by silence it is the meister who breaks the silence, who juts her hip to the side and braces her arm against the angle and starts to grin at the other girl.

“So that’s how it is,” she says. Jacqueline is still staring at her, still has both her hands clapped over her mouth like her body ran away with her and she’s trying to forcibly ensure it doesn’t do so again. “You could have just  _said_  you like girls, you know, it would have simplified this a lot.”

Jacqueline shakes her head, says something that sounds like a protest but that Kim can’t make out from behind her hands.

Kim rolls her eyes. “Take your hands away, Jackie, I can’t  _understand_  you when you’re talking into your fingers.”

Jacqueline’s eyes narrow with irritation at the amusement in Kim’s voice, but she drops her hands and honestly frustration is a good look for her, or a better look than shocked into immobility at least. “I said I  _don’t_. Like girls.”

Kim raises her eyebrows. “Are you delusional as well as pointlessly stubborn?” She’s stepping in before Jacqueline has a chance to more than lower her elegant brows to glare at the insult; the weapon is taller than Kim but she has a lot of dark hair hanging down her back, it offers a great handhold once the meister gets her fingers up into it. Jacqueline makes a shocked sound of pain when Kim pulls on the fist the meister has of her hair, but then her mouth is back against Kim’s, and this time Kim parts her lips and Jacqueline goes soft and melting under her hands even before the weapon follows her example and opens her mouth for the meister.

Kim’s kissed people before. Technically. Twice, to be precise, both so far in the past they weren’t much more than childhood games. But she’s seen other people kiss, couples around corners at the DWMA when they think they’re unobserved, or in movies or television shows, and she’s a fast learner. The most important thing, as far as she can tell, like with everything else, is to  _act_  confident regardless of how much actual experience she has. So she steps in closer, licks against the roof of Jacqueline’s mouth, and the weapon whimpers and gasps and arches  _in_  instead of away, presses up against Kim so her breasts crush in against the meister’s, and when Kim reaches up to lay her hand flat against the side of the other girl’s chest Jacqueline  _gasps_ , tries to lean in and twist at the same time so she stumbles and nearly falls and inadvertently breaks the kiss in the process.

Kim’s heart is pounding in her chest, this is  _nothing_  like how she was expecting this afternoon to go, but Jacqueline is looking glazed and probably won’t notice how flushed the meister is anyway. So she smiles like she does this all the time, and Jacqueline’s hands come up to clutch at her hips like the meister is the only stable thing in a spinning world.

“Don’t like girls?” she says, shifting her hand sideways and pushing in harder, until her fingers are entirely cupping Jacqueline’s breast, and the weapon  _shudders_ , curls in around the shorter girl and buries her face against Kim’s shoulder. “You sure like  _me_ , and as I am in fact a girl you should probably reconsider that claim.” She grins with all the bravado she can muster, even though Jacqueline’s not looking at her; the assumed confidence bleeds into her voice and straightens her spine, and that helps counteract how damp her palm against Jacqueline’s shirt is going with panicked excitement. “I could show you, just in case you want to be sure.”

Kim is expecting the weapon to flush, to go stiff and panicked as her straight-laced nature reasserts itself, and for a moment there  _is_  a tension that flickers through the other girl. But Jacqueline’s mouth opens against her shoulder, and the sound the weapon makes is  _not_  protest, it’s really more of a moan than anything else, and in spite of her best attempts to stay in control the sound sends a wave of heat through Kim’s skin so she’s shivering too.

“You really want this?” Kim asks, and if her voice shakes a little Jacqueline is breathing too hard for the other girl to notice, probably. “I never expected that of little Miss Perfect. Though it makes me like you a lot more.” She tips her head sideways, scrapes her teeth against Jacqueline’s ear; when the weapon shivers again Kim starts talking again, soft in consideration of how close her mouth is to the other girl’s ear. “See,  _this_  will be great for our teamwork.” Jacqueline is still shaking, still clinging to Kim like a lifeline. “All the best partners are sleeping together anyway, it’s practically  _expected_  at this point.” She angles a knee in between the weapon’s, shifts her weight to turn the two of them, and Jacqueline goes obediently, turns and shuffles backward, and when Kim pushes her shoulder she falls back onto the bed with barely a squeak of startled not-quite-protest.

Kim joins her fast, before she has time to lose her nerve, drops onto her knees on the bed and then shifts one leg between Jacqueline’s because if she doesn’t do it now she’s not going to have the courage to do it later. Her smile is going wider, taking on the manic edge of actual panic she can feel herself, but Jacqueline doesn’t know her all that well yet and the other girl probably won’t catch on to Kim’s own utter lack of experience in this area. Besides, how hard can it be? Better with another girl than a guy; at least Kim knows how everything works from her own experience. And Jacqueline’s pretty, much prettier than any of the boys in the Academy. Most of her hair is still twisted up into a severe bun, but even that’s starting to go, and the smooth fall of dark is getting tangled around her shoulders, showing the marks of Kim’s fingers in comparison to its usual untouched perfection. Jacqueline’s lips are parted, mouth stained red as if from lipstick just from the pressure of Kim’s teeth and tongue and lips, and that flush is still clinging to her cheeks but she’s staring at Kim’s face; she looks disbelieving, still, but more breathless and dreamy now than the straight shock she had before. All the skin Kim can see is pinker than Jacqueline’s usual ivory tone, like all her blood is rising up in a desperate attempt to escape, or just to feel Kim’s touch; she reaches out to touch the outside of Jacqueline’s thigh, under the hem of her skirt, and the weapon shudders and gasps and shifts her knees to spread her legs wider.

It’s a tiny movement, to carry the invitation that it does, and for a moment Kim is just staring at the stripe of Jacqueline’s skirt falling dark across the other girl’s thighs. It’s higher than it usually is, sliding up from Kim’s touch, but when the meister pushes up farther experimentally Jacqueline whimpers again, and when Kim brings her hand across to the space between Jacqueline’s thighs the weapon takes a sharp strangled inhale that seems loud enough to echo in the space, loud enough that Kim is suddenly glad there’s no one else in the building.

“Did you think about this?” she asks, more loudly than she intends, trying to cover how badly her hand is shaking when she reaches up to unfasten the buttons of Jacqueline’s jacket. “Did you think about me touching you like -- like this?” The words catch in her throat but the weapon doesn’t hear it; Jacqueline’s eyes are locked on Kim’s face, she’s looking at Kim like the meister is some sort of angel, and she’s  _nodding_ , straight-laced good-girl Jacqueline Dupré is  _nodding_  at Kim’s deliberately invasive suggestions, and she’s letting Kim pull her tie loose and start unbuttoning her shirt and she’s not moving Kim’s hand from its position high along the inside of her thigh. Kim’s breathing hard and her skin keeps flushing hot and then cold, panic chasing hard on the heels of interest until she feels like her skin is speckled alternately pale and flushed.

Jacqueline’s not pale, though. The weapon is pink and warm, hot even, she’s radiating heat off every inch of her skin so she actually feels  _warmer_  as Kim gets her clothes open, the flat shiver of her stomach and the steep slope of her breasts over the lacy top edge of her bra radiating heat and both as pink as Kim’s hair. Kim’s been fond of thinking of Jacqueline as a marble statue: very beautiful, and very cold, and with little if any resemblance to a living human. But the other girl is very human now; when Kim touches that edge of white lace on flushed skin Jacqueline  _groans_  like the sound is being dragged up out of her throat, arches up off the bed into the meister’s touch, and when the smaller girl slides her hand up another inch along Jacqueline’s thigh the weapon is  _hot_ , wet and warm even before Kim gets her fingers in against the other girl’s panties and pushes careful friction against her. Jacqueline shudders, her whole body quaking on Kim’s bed like she can’t control the shiver coursing through her, and Kim can’t breathe and she doesn’t know what to do so she pushes straight on, like she always does. The clasp of Jacqueline’s bra is against her back, she can’t reach it and Jacqueline looks well past the point of accepting any sort of instruction, so in lieu of actually getting the thing off she just pushes at the bottom edge, hooks her fingers around it and shoves until it hitches up over Jacqueline’s breasts instead of under them, and before she has time to go frozen and tongue-tied at the unfamiliar curves under her fingers she just touches the weapon, strokes her fingers down over the sweep of the other girl’s skin, and that seems to be the right thing. Jacqueline shuts her eyes, moans softly in the back of her throat, and Kim’s own blood is going hot, resolving its indecision in favor of arousal rather than fright. Jacqueline’s skin is soft against Kim’s fingertips, soft like silk, softer than any of Kim’s own body, and she’d feel self-conscious about that except that she really just wants to feel more. She gets the fingers of her other hand past the obstruction of fabric, feeling her way more by Jacqueline’s panting breathing than by sight, and it’s not that hard anyway, after all. When she catches her thumb just right Jacqueline shudders so she keeps the pressure there, curls two fingers together so she can slide them into the other girl, and Jacqueline is  _wet_ , Kim’s fingers almost don’t meet any resistance even as she can feel the other girl’s body stretching around her. It’s very suddenly hard to breathe, the realization that she’s  _inside_  Jacqueline sucking all the air from the room for a moment, but the other girl is quivering under her touch and actually  _whimpers_  when Kim experimentally moves her hand, and Kim can’t really be bothered with little things like oxygen just at the moment after all.

The angle’s much easier than when she’s on her own; there’s none of the awkward wrist twisting it takes to get her own fingers where she wants them, and Jacqueline seems perfectly content with just the pressure of Kim’s thumb against her clit, not even desperate for any real movement if the steady increase in the volume of her moans is any indication. She’s responsive to Kim’s touch on her breasts, too, arching up like she’s offering herself for the taking until her back is entirely off the bed, Kim could fit her hand between the sheets and Jacqueline’s skin without touching either if she weren’t so busy tracing patterns across the curve of soft-firm skin under her fingertips. Jacqueline’s breathing harder and faster and louder, Kim’s barely even moving her fingers inside the other girl and she can still feel the weapon shaking under and around her fingers, her breathing going erratic until Kim’s not sure she’s not going to pass out before she comes.

Kim’s instinct is to push hard, thrust her fingers as fast and as deep as she can, but from the way Jacqueline is gasping she’s faintly concerned she’ll break the taller girl, so she holds back, keeps to the steady pace that is winding the weapon up in spite of its relative slowness, drags her fingers carefully up and over the weapon’s chest, working her way up and around until she brushes her fingertips gently across the other girl’s nipple. Jacqueline gasps in a huge shuddering breath, arches up even farther; Kim can feel the edge under her hands, can hear it in the weapon’s stopped breath and see it in the shake in her legs, and when she drags her fingers back over the sensitive skin and slides her thumb over the other girl’s clit, Kim’s the one who gasps in relief as Jacqueline convulses and shudders into orgasm against her.

They’re both breathing hard as Kim slides her fingers free; if the meister could steady herself she would, but her heart is racing way past the point of even grasping at coy, and now that Jackie’s shivering and smiling with the aftershocks of pleasure Kim is becoming  _really_  aware that no one’s touched  _her_  yet. It’s a weird feeling, actually; she doesn’t usually wait, if she wants to get off, and the sense of several minutes of anticipation without any contact is making her skin shiver like it’s not quite attached right.

“Jackie,” she says before she realizes what her throat is doing, so the other girl’s name comes out shattered and broken and any attempt at coolness evaporates before it begins. Jacqueline shivers again, finally opens her eyes to look up at the meister; she’s not moving, making no attempt to straighten her clothes at all so she’s just a mess of tangled fabric and damp flushed skin and gasping breaths, and Kim  _absolutely_  isn’t going to wait any longer.

“‘S not fair, if it’s just you,” she’s saying, letting Jacqueline go so she can hitch up her own skirt and slide her panties down around her knees where she’s still straddling the weapon’s leg. She doesn’t make any real effort to keep herself covered in the process -- it seems silly, after all -- but Jacqueline’s gaze drops to follow the movement and the weapon comes flying upright, gasping in delight like Kim’s skin is some sort of magical thing to see, and her hands -- delicate hands, she’s got long thin fingers that feel like fire against Kim’s body -- come up against the top of the meister’s stockings, grabbing at the edge of the other girl’s sweater and shirt to push it up and get at the skin underneath.

“Jackie,” Kim hears herself saying. She throws one hand out to the other girl’s shoulder to steady herself, close her fingers around the hand against her leg. Jacqueline starts to pull back, out of worry or fear of rejection or  _something_  but Kim doesn’t care enough to find out what misconception the other girl might have. “ _Fuck_ , hurry up.” She shifts the weapon’s hand, lining her own fingers up against Jacqueline’s, and when she leads the other girl’s head between her legs the weapon catches on, brings her shaking fingers in against Kim, but that’s not enough  _either_. Kim drops Jacqueline’s hand, grabs at a handful of the weapon’s hair and pulls to punctuate, hisses, “ _More_ , Jackie,  _fuck_ ,” and the weapon shudders and gasps and slides one of those long fingers into her. The pressure helps, it pulls a groan out of Kim’s throat and an arch out of her back, and Jacqueline’s hand is sliding too slow up over her waist and it’s still not enough.

“Harder,” she says, tipping her head down so she can watch Jacqueline’s shoulders shake as the weapon angles her forehead in to fit her head under Kim’s breasts. “Harder, more, come  _on_  Jackie.” The weapon shivers, starts to ask something: “Are you --” and Kim knows what the question is, snaps, “ _Yes_  I’m sure, just give me  _more_.” Jacqueline pauses, hesitates for just a moment, and just before Kim has a chance to voice another protest she moves all at once, slides a second finger up into the meister and fits her fingers in under the other girl’s bra to press against her breast, and Kim groans with satisfaction and lets her hold on the weapon’s hair go.

“ _Good_ ,” she says, pushing the edge of her skirt back up so she can fit her fingers in over her clit. “Good, yes,  _more_  like that.” Jacqueline starts to move her hand, slow at first but gaining speed when Kim whines encouragement, and the meister has found the right angle for her own fingers and is setting up a counterpoint rhythm to the slide of the other girl’s hand into her. The fingers on her skin are gaining force too, pushing a little harder and moving a little harder; Kim keeps groaning, part encouragement and part plea for more and part just response to the heat soaring up into her blood and skin and throat until she has to voice it or choke. Jacqueline is moving faster, harder in obedience response to Kim’s desperation, and when she shifts her hand and fits a third finger in alongside the first two it’s finally enough. The weapon’s fingertips are dragging hard over Kim’s breast, pushing hard enough into the sensitive skin that it would be painful if Kim weren’t so flushed with  _want_ , and Jacqueline’s shoulders are shifting with how hard she’s thrusting her hand but it’s close, it’s  _so_  close to enough, Kim’s wrist is aching but there’s no way she’s about to stop now. Then Jacqueline’s fingers catch at Kim’s nipple, pull just barely at the sensitive skin, and Kim’s coming before she realizes it, shuddering and gasping and laughing, self-consciousness utterly forgotten in the shake of pleasure crashing through her.

Everything starts to ache as she comes down from her orgasm; her wrist is sore, and her legs are cramping up, and all the overstimulated sensitive skin across her body is tingling in steadily rising protest at its abuse. She’s still laughing, though, giggling with delight and faint hysteria, and Jacqueline is still breathless and mostly undressed, and as soon as the weapon slides her fingers free Kim pushes her back down to the bed and collapses on top of her, weighing the other girl down before she can get up and run away as the rising self-awareness in her expression says she’s considering.

“I don’t mind,” she says, deliberately mumbling into Jacqueline’s shoulder while she fits her fingers against the shudder of the weapon’s stomach as the other girl breathes.

There’s a pause of confusion, as Kim was hoping for. “What?”

“I don’t mind sharing a room with you,” Kim clarifies. Jacqueline goes still; Kim can almost see the other girl’s thought process catching up with her reference. “It’ll be good for our partnership. Right?”

Jacqueline  _might_  get angry, or upset, or panicked. The uptight Jacqueline of Kim’s imagination would definitely get irritated. But the girl underneath her starts to laugh, breathless and charmed and amused, and Kim smiles against the sheets without bothering to lift her head.


End file.
